


Music as a common language

by ACLlama



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Music, M/M, Music, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22422916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACLlama/pseuds/ACLlama
Summary: It’s a well-known fact that America and England don’t get along. But on some occasions, all it takes is each other's music to bring them together (something they will never admit).Songfic
Relationships: America & England (Hetalia), America/England (Hetalia)
Kudos: 4





	1. Hannah Hunt – Vampire Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if songfics are relevant in 2019 but why the fuck not.

Chapter 1: Hannah Hunt – Vampire Weekend

England always thought that America’s taste was subpar. The man couldn’t tell what food should be considered edible, his fashion sense, especially in the early 2000s, was an eyesore at the least and a personal insult at most and don’t get England started on his atrocious taste in cinema. If England is forced to see another Marvel movie again in his life he is going to rip his eyes straight out of their sockets. So every time they spend time together when he is in the USA England has to pray that America won’t force him to partake in one of his cultural experiences.  
It started out simply enough, on a fine August morning, England arrived at America’s Texas ranch just outside of Houston feeling exhausted from the 10-hour flight. America welcomed him with all the excitement in the world which was too much even for England this early in the morning. How this boy ended up a morning person he will never understand. England decidedly slept until about noon when he was woken up by the smell of eggs and bacon. It was a tradition by this point that America would make eggs and bacon when England is about to get up (forcefully so). So to not experience the amazing feeling of Alfred dragging him by his feet out of the bed he got up and made himself somewhat presentable with a pair of black pants and a simple white t-shirt. After combing his hair out of its bedhead state he went down the stairs and when he reached the dining room bordering the kitchen the smell already engulfed the entire estate. A small, quiet sound did catch his attention and he realized it was America’s singing voice. A soft, soulful thing, England remembers when the boy would sing all the time as a colony. Sometimes England would fall asleep to the sound of his voice playing in the back of his mind, though he would never dare admit it. What did surprise Arthur was the song he was singing, he never heard it before. America would usually sing something poppy and well, not to England’s taste, but this sounded at least listenable.  
_In Santa Barbara, Hannah cried_  
_"I miss those freezing beaches"_  
Something was quite beautiful about it. He dared not interrupt the boy’s musings so he sat down behind him at the counter facing his back, watching as the boy slowly shifting between the bacon and pouring pancakes into a new pan.  
_And I walked into town_  
_To buy some kindling for the fire_  
_Hannah tore the New York Times up into pieces_  
You could tell Alfred didn’t care what he looked like in the morning. His hair was tousled, clothing haphazardly put on, even his shirt was upside down since England arrived at the ranch at 7. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Arthur found this to be excruciatingly annoying but he dared not interrupt him now, while he looked so content and in his element.  
_If I can't trust you then damn it, Hannah_  
_There's no future, there's no answer_  
_Though we live on the US dollar_  
_You and me, we got our own sense of time_  
By this point he was belting out, and England saw no better time to put a stop to it than when he was going to burst his eardrum.  
A simple “Ahem” had Alfred spinning in his tracks, a pancake sliding out of the pan in his hand and straight to the floor.  
“Artie! Way to scare a dude!”  
Already use to the nickname Arthur only sighed and shook his head in disappointment at the boy’s vocabulary.  
“At first I didn’t want to interrupt your splendid performance but you were about to burst my eardrums so I thought best to put an end to the show.”  
America sent him a look of slight confusion and posed the question:  
“How much did you hear?”  
Arthur got off his chair by that point and enter the kitchen to pick up the pancake off the floor and throw it in the garbage bin.  
“Enough to know that the song doesn’t sound half bad. Usually, the music you listen to is, no offense, garbage.”  
Alfred had to send him a glare at that statement, his countries history might be short compared to everyone else’s, but he damn knew no one made such leaps in musical development as America did.  
“Geez. Thanks, old man, but you have no idea what kind of music I actually listen to.”  
“O really? I wouldn’t consider Lil Uzi Vert and whoever else your music scene spits out music either.”  
By this point, Arthur was grating on Alfred’s nerves. Bad.  
“Well, instead of making assumptions, actually ask me what I like for once. Just because I enjoy some harmless pop music from time to time doesn’t mean I have no taste.”  
By that point America, slightly pissed off, dropped England’s breakfast on the dining table and put away the pancake batter into the fridge, chewing by hand on one of his too many pancakes to count.  
England kind of felt guilty for the boy’s now sour mood and thought he might as well turn the conversation into a more pleasant direction.  
“Okay, I admit I don’t know much about your music scene other than what is currently trendy on the radio back home.“  
He sat down at the table and took a small bite, avoiding grease where he can.  
“So after breakfast, why don’t you show me more of what you listen to. I am intrigued after hear that Hannah song you were singing.”  
That took America by surprise, suddenly his day didn’t feel so sour again. He nodded with vigor at the proposal, excited that Arthur might actually be interested in what Alfred likes for once.  
“I actually keep a vinyl and CD collection here on the ranch, I don’t think you’ve seen it yet.”  
Now Arthur was surprised. He himself keeps a vinyl collection at his estate in London and he has shown it to America many times since that format became popular, but he would never have guessed the boy is a collector himself. It was a bit rude of England to consider America to be tasteless for something like this.  
“Well, I have to admit I did not expect that. I am curious to see what you consider quality.”  
That felt like a jab to Alfred but he ignored it. He knew England was just like that by nature with him. It was progress enough that he even asked him about what he liked. Well, only after Alfred complained about it.  
They finished their breakfast rather quickly, America devouring all of his Nutella pancakes in what seemed like two bites and England not even touching the bacon. They put the dishes away immediately (because England insisted) and Alfred was already eying his key to the music room. On the east wing of the ranch, he unlocked a simple door to reveal a large room lined with vinyl, CDs, cassettes and different instruments, mostly guitars.  
The instruments didn’t surprise Arthur, he knew the boy played guitar constantly in his spare time, what did surprise him was the number of signed records on the right wall. From Queen, Led Zeppelin and Rolling Stones to The Beatles and even the bloody Sex Pistols and The Clash.  
“I didn’t peg you for a Sex Pistols fan.”  
America had to laugh at that one.  
“Have you heard their lyrics, Iggy? God save the queen, the fascist regime?”  
England’s face had to turn a bit sour at that, remembering his atrocious punk phase and that short period when those words didn’t sting.  
“Of course that is the part you find appealing…”  
Alfred didn’t get a chance to hear Arthur’s muttering because he was already scanning through the record on the shelf on the left wall. Searching among the letter V he exclaimed a soft, and a bit cute (in Arthur's secret opinion) “Aha!” when he pulled out a record with a black and white cover of New York City.  
“You said you liked Hannah Hunt so I might as well show you the band that made it.”  
He took out the vinyl and shoved the cover into England’s hands for him to see. While Alfred was setting up his record player Arthur had to comment on the title.  
“Vampire Weekend is the band name or the record name?”  
“It’s the band name. The album’s Modern Vampires of the City.”  
Arthur flipped the record to see the tracklist and mumbled to himself.  
“What a strange name.”  
Soon the room was filled with the sound of the first track.  
“Not a bad sound.” He had to admit.  
“Just enjoy and look around Artie.”  
And so he did. Slowly his feet would start tapping to the beat without him noticing and America would point out a record that he thinks Arthur might like. At one moment when Alfred wanted to point out a record by a group named “The Strokes” he remembered hearing about somewhere before, their fingers lightly brushed for only a moment and both felt a slight tingle in their backs.  
Alfred took the opportunity to grab Arthur’s hand and pull it in for a dance the moment the record switched to the second song.  
“What do you think you’re doing?!” The nerve of this man, Arthur is not a fan of random dancing especially when America is involved. But it would be a lie to say the song isn’t danceable.  
_Got a little soul_  
_The world is a cold, cold place to be_  
_Want a little warmth_  
_But who’s gonna save a little warmth for me?_  
Alfred immediately started singing and shimmying, moving Arthur’s hands back and forth. At one moment he even spun him around. Arthur should’ve told him no by this point, but he looked so happy and the song was really getting to him and – fuck it.  
Arthur is not an expert at dancing by any means. He does do a pretty mean waltz but that’s about it. He felt like a child jumping around to the sound.  
_I know I love you_  
_And you love the sea_  
_But what holy water contains a little drop, little drop for me?_  
They kept dancing through the songs, Arthur slightly swaying to the beat and Alfred dancing around him like a little kid, shaking Arthur’s shoulders and pulling his hands.  
By the time the record got to the last song on side A, Hannah Hunt, both were a bit tired. But the smooth move of Alfred sneaking his arms around Arthur’s waist and picking him up, spinning him in the air left butterflies in the older nation’s chest. He should be used to the younger nation’s sudden affection but it never ceases to surprise him in a warm and endearing sort of way.  
They swayed slowly, Arthur’s arms around the boy’s shoulders while Alfred hummed the lyrics in his shoulder.  
_A man of faith said_  
_Our days were long, our nights no longer_  
_Count the seconds, watching hours_  
_Though we live on the US dollar_  
_You and me, we got our own sense of time_  
“You know Alfred” Arthur mentioned.  
“Mm?” Was Alfred’s response.  
“I miss you too much sometimes.”  
America couldn’t agree more but his pride didn’t want to admit it. They had something no one else had. A familiar connection that tugs and pulls in a way only love knows how.  
He buried his head deeper into Arthur’s shoulder, feeling so small again in the man’s arms.  
That was enough for Arthur to know Alfred missed him as well just as much.  
“Wanna go for a walk through the vineyard?” America asked.  
“Would love to.”  
The record stopped and America put it back in its cover and back on the shelf.  
That night they picked out some wine and got blasted drunk to Alfred’s Vampire Weekend collection. Arthur is a fan for sure, but he despises Oxford Comma with a passion to Alfred’s immense amusement. When his stay in the US ended for that summer England went home with a signed copy of Modern Vampires of the City Alfred gifted to him, which he hung on his own wall the moment he returned.


	2. Genie in a Bottle – Christina Aguilera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 90s were wild, even for Alfred and Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This One is much more humorous I have to say.

Chapter 2: Genie in a Bottle – Christina Aguilera

The 90s for America was a time of drunk prospering. After the Cold War America felt tired, he had no will to focus on anything that wasn’t mindless fun at that point. His nation prospered under capitalism with its music, cinema, technology and especially the internet and he was so proud that he couldn’t help but waste his time amongst a mass of celebrities partying every day until the sun would rise. By this time England settled into his stuffy, old man persona as he abandoned the punk movement and America came into the full force of his youth.  
You could tell the pure disdain the world was feeling towards America’s behavior by that point when he decided to hold a meeting in L.A. instead of Washington D.C. in 1999. He wouldn’t even hold the meeting in the first place if he wasn’t pressured by Bill Clinton. He couldn’t wait for that man to leave office, though he’d never say that out loud.  
The meeting went by in a haze. Per tradition, a few fights broke out, half of the countries weren’t even present because they had their own issues to deal with and Alfred might have stolen a bit of Ivan’s Vodka from his bag and downed a round before the meeting started. If Ivan noticed he didn’t mention a thing. By this point, Arthur’s usual annoyance was turning into a sort of parental worry he tried squashing since the Revolution. It would be ironic if the world’s once most powerful and prolific drunk as England was to lecture America on drinking habits, but by God drinking on the job is insulting and unprofessional. When all other nations scurried out to either get home as soon as possible or to sightsee, only Alfred and Arthur were left in the conference room.  
“Wassup Iggster?”  
Cringing at the slurring of words and the atrocity that is the nickname ‘Iggster’, Arthur laid a gentle hand on the young nation’s shoulder and added a poignant suggestion.  
“Why don’t we head somewhere where you can sober up? I’ll keep you company.”  
Alfred nodded slowly and grabbed Arthur by the elbow of his arm to steady himself.  
Arthur thought best to take him to his hotel room where the boy could sleep the alcohol off, but that wasn’t what Alfred had in mind.  
“Ya know Iggy? We should go meet up with my friend Britney! She has such a huge hit right now, you’ll love her I know ya will.”  
Arthur replied, “No thank you I don’t even know who that is.” With a bit of snark but Alfred was already off his arm hauling the chauffeur.  
“Well at least you’re not driving in that state.” Was all Arthur could say before being pushed into the SUV and hauled off to America’s L.A. villa.  
Arthur knew Alfred loved spending money and as a nation, you are given a lot to spend but the idea of such indulgence made Arthur think of his own old glory days, knowing full well those don’t last. At least they were at America’s house and not some random club or who knows where.  
Alfred dragged him into his bedroom with too much vigor and shoved him in one of the obnoxious neon chairs in front of the king-sized bed.  
“Time to change and head out!”  
“Wait what?” America was already shirtless changing into some God-awful saggy jeans and Arthur covered his face and turned around for good measure. After a minute he felt a black shirt thrown at his face, it was one of Alfred’s many identical Nirvana shirts he’s seen through the years.  
“What am I to do with this?”  
“Change into it old man! We’re heading out to a party!”  
“And what makes you think I want to party?” Arthur asked with the most confused and bitter look on his face.  
“You said you’d keep me company didn’t ya?” Alfred looked at him with these eyes filled with hope and how could Arthur say no. It gave him an excuse to keep an eye on the nation’s drinking habit so it doesn’t get out of hand.  
“Fucking bloody fine. Where are we even going anyway?”  
Alfred smirked at that, feeling proud of what friends he has.  
“Oh, just Leo’s.”  
“Which Leo’s? America, I do not know every single friend you have you know that don’t you?”  
A large grin spread on Alfred’s face, his teeth shining with perfection.  
“Leonardo DiCaprio’s of course!”  
All Arthur could say then was: “That boy from that butchering of Romeo and Juliet??”  
Alfred frowned at the older nation’s insult, sulking from having his ego bruised.  
“Yes, now change before I kick you out old man!”  
“Hey, watch your mouth!”

…

Now dressed, feeling like some edgy teenager, Arthur pushed through a crowd of celebrities, groupies, millionaires’ kids, and gold diggers just to catch up with Alfred who escaped his sight in a moment. They were picking up drinks from the bar when a young lady, a little too young to be there in his opinion, started talking to Arthur about some girl group named Destiny’s Child she was a part of and by the time Arthur could excuse himself to see where his friend was, Alfred was already gone somewhere on the other side of the mansion. He quickly excused himself, apologizing to the Miss for his rude behavior, and ran off to search for the stupid American git. When he found him, he had an arm around some two blonde girls that were also too young to be there, talking to who he recognized as the host of the party and another actor he knew as Brad Pitt. Squeezing in between them, not realizing how bad that looked, he grabbed Alfred by the hand and at a little too loud of a tone yelled: “Do not run off like that again!”  
Everyone just awkwardly looked at each other, the two girls slowly removed themselves while chuckling, one even added “I didn’t know he was taken.”, and both Alfred and Arthur felt heat rise to their cheeks. They retorted at the same time with “It’s not like that!” and all everyone could do was nod not believing it for a single second.  
Arthur later found out those were Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, who’s music he actually enjoyed when they played on the radio, which he will never ever admit, for America would never let him live it down.  
He noticed how Alfred looked at him for a second and suddenly a new song played that he hasn’t heard before now. But of course, Alfred knew it right off the bat.  
Before Arthur could make sense of what was happening, he was dragged into a mass of people, a new cup in his hand and before he knew it Alfred had him drinking more than he ever really should. Thankfully he knew when to say no at that point but Alfred sure didn’t, and Arthur was too drunk to tell the other nation no. The boy’s glasses were off and on his shirt, which hiked up to reveal his tan hips, and he was jumping like mad in the crowd. Arthur, feeling the buzz, only because he was feeling the buzz no other reason, jumped along. They moved along to the beat, suddenly realized the DJ was playing a song from the girl he kind of kicked to the side earlier.  
_If you wanna be with me_  
_Baby there's a price to pay_  
_I'm a genie in a bottle_  
_You gotta rub me the right way_  
He knew Alfred would, well, like any other nation, hook up with whoever he pleased, and that did leave him with a slight sting in his heart, but as long as the younger nation was willing to spend time with him like this, he could never really complain, could he? They were always there, touching a bit too close for comfort, but never fully there. Never admitting a thing, or crossing a line, but always treading it.  
_If you wanna be with me_  
_I can make your wish come true_  
_You gotta make a big impression_  
_Gotta like what you do_  
Off in the background, Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio stood next to each other sharing a quite similar sentiment to eachother.  
“I always knew that guy wasn’t straight.” Leo said. Brad nodded his head in agreement.  
“And I can tell he has a type.” Brad had to add as he locked eyes with Leo, staring at him with a huge “I mean you” look on his face making Leo exclaim:  
“What does that mean?”  
“Oh, nothing.”

….

When they got home, Alfred was hanging by Arthur’s arm who barely stood himself, and they both sang the chorus of a Spice Girls song a little too enthusiastically for 6 in the morning.  
Both fell asleep on Alfred’s humongous bed and when they woke up with a splitting headache, none dare mention last night’s terrible singing fest.  
Sitting at the dining table munching on some cereal, America choosing the most sugary one in his collection and England the least sugary one, Alfred got a sudden text on his personal cell phone. When he looked at it, he spat out his cereal straight onto Arthur, who slowly got up without a word and left straight to rinse himself in disgust.  
The message was from Beyonce, someone he expected had quite a good career ahead of her, telling him he could’ve warned her that he and his British friend were dating.  
Having no idea what that meant, he replied with a simple “Sorry.” and went straight to cleaning the table with the biggest sense of embarrassment he has felt in years.  
He is never going to drink again in his life that’s for sure.  
Upstairs England thought the same thing, saying under his breath: “I’m too old for this shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do tell me what you think.


	4. Pure Feeling – Florence and The Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has a revelation listening to Florence Welch.

They fought. It was a small scuffle, really. After a tense world meeting where Britain had to deal with the consequences of Brexit, America had to put his nose where it didn’t belong. Arthur had had a tough and tedious week with new elections, a new and frankly idiotic Prime Minister and the whole of Europe throwing darts at him daring to disrupt the status quo, by this point all he wanted was to curl up into his bed and never come out again in his life. Driving to his house in suffocating silence was becoming too much, his negative and intrusive thoughts taking over, he popped in a random CD he found in the car and listened. The sound of Florence Welch’s voice filled the car and Arthur felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. He remembered a time when Alfred would listen to her on his earphones before a meeting and England would constantly wonder just what the boy was listening to. Once he gathered the courage, he asked him, and Alfred ended up sharing one of his earphones with him. Arthur had to ask him why. Why was he listening to an English artist so often? What drew him to such an extent. Alfred would smile and look at him through his glasses that he had since he was a young colony and laughingly answer “It just reminds me of you, that’s all!”   
Staring out the window  
I could see into the soul of every passer-by  
So many lives  
So many pairs of eyes  
He hadn’t felt cherished and understood in a long time until he heard Florence for the first time. The woman was everything England knew of himself, every changing mood and tide, like the restless sea he once held in the palm of his hand. And small moments like those that he shared with Alfred, the dancing, the joy, the fights all made him more acutely aware of how he is. The process of building himself up and tearing down again. His people are the same, and so are the rulers and so is his land. Time moves and circles back to the start again.   
And then I am in love  
With everyone I see  
I keep on moving in the spaces where you used to be  
And with those words in his mind like embers, he turned the car around for the hotel where America was. Rushing up the stairs instead of waiting for the lift, he furiously knocked on the room where he would find the young nation.  
America opened the door groggy and confused. When he saw England panting he was even more confused if possible.  
“Um, Arthur, what are you doing here?”  
Arthur took the opportunity to grab the boy and lay a quick and hasty kiss on his lips with all the love he could muster.  
Both looked at each other shocked by the action and before Alfred could proclaim his utter bewilderment Arthur blurted out “Want to go out with me?”  
America adorned a grin so wide and filled with so much joy, it made England’s heart skip a few beats with how it fluttered.  
That evening they drove around the outskirts of London the whole night and for once England could say he felt like himself without fear, without judgment and without regrets.  
Stretching out my arms  
I let it comfort me  
Our bodies moving in the dark  
It takes the pain from me  
And then I am in love  
With everyone I see  
I keep on moving in the spaces where you used to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a feeling Alfred would introduce Florence to Arthur and that Arthur would simply adore her. All of her songs remind me of England in a way, so I chose the one dearest to me and one I personally see myself in. I keep moving through the memories that I share with all the people I have known, and often I feel too many of them come and go. But because they’re not here now doesn’t mean they left for good and I have to keep that in mind. And even if they go for good, their memories are here with me and they don’t have to cause pain.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, the next chapter will be another song.


End file.
